Demon In Me
by Cee Marie
Summary: Helen was your typical teenage girl. Normal school, normal problems. Only she could talk to the dead and her blood ran like ice. Little did she know deep inside she was the Goddess of Death. (Avengers, rated for small amounts of gore and language. May change later.)
1. Things Come Alive

**Just a little something I thought up a while ago and just now decided to post. Not quite sure where it's going, but that's half the fun, isn't it?**

A small girl sat on the floor, playing with a toy doll. Her two older brothers lay on the couch, asleep. Her mother stood to kiss the child's father goodbye. Tears shone in the mother's eyes. He was leaving again. He had to, but she didn't like it. The man's tall shadow followed him as he walked out the door. The woman held back a sob.

The child looked up at her distressed mother. She was only one, but understood enough. Daddy was going away again.

Night filtered through the slightly open windows. The microwave clock read 9:45. It was the child's bedtime, but her mother was to upset to notice. It might be years before he came back.

The girl stood up, her fall hanging limp from her hand. She wobbled to the front window. Her green eyes gazed out to the street beyond. She saw her father walking away. She gave a soft cry. He looked up at her. He gave her a sad smile. The wind pulled at his black hair. He began walking again. And then he was gone, taken by the night.

"Helen!"

Helen jerked her head from the book in her lap. Her mother shoved the door open, finally finding her daughter sitting in her closet.

"Come on, time for school."

Helen rolled her eyes. Her mother glared at her and Helen issued a quick apology. She stood up, book tucked safely under her arm, and exited the closet.

Her mom wore her work uniform, black pants and a red top. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled into a bun. She worked at a dinner in down town New York. She hated the job, but they needed money.

Their house showed why. It wasn't even a house, but a tiny apartment. Helen had lived their ever since she could remember. It was only a half kitchen (oven, counter, fridge) a table with two worn out chairs, a sofa, and a TV. She and her mom used to share the one bed, but ever since Helen's nightmares started, she had been forced to move to the couch. That was when she was about ten. Helen's two older brothers would take turns sleeping on the couch and on a cot. But they had long left. Liam and Jami were twins, Jami being a little older and more mature. The two had left as soon as they could.

Liam would visit sometimes, but Helen hadn't seem the other twin in over a year. He called though.

Helen grabbed up her back pack from the sofa and headed for the door. Her mom followed. She always walked Helen to the bus stop, more for safety than anything else. They lived in a bad part of town.

The bus was already waiting. Helen gave her mom a quick hug, then boarded. Crowded as usual. Their apartment was always the last stop.

Finally she found a spot in the very back.

Helen sat down, trying not to make eye contact with the other students. Tenth grade, yippee. She was sixteen, so she could technically drive, but who had space for a car in New York? Even her mom didn't drive. She had to use the bus.

The bus lurched to a stop. Traffic. Exactly why no one drove. If would be several minutes before the bus started again.

Helen took her phone out of her bag and plugged her ear buds in. The phone was a dinosaur. It was her mom's old phone. Most other kids had a smart phone. Helen had a dumb phone. But at least it worked.

She turned her music up and tried to let the world drown out.

It was half an hour later that the bus arrived at school. It was a crummy public school, its bricks covered in graffiti, sidewalk lined with trash. Kids hid out by the dumpster smoking and drinking. High school.

The bus ground to halt, it's wheels making a grinding sound. Slowly it unloaded. The students swarmed out like an angry beehive.

Helen was one of the last to get out. She breathed fresh air through her nose. God, the bus smelled.

Already she was late. Helen began to jog toward the front doors. The flow of bodies had slowed to just a few. She was nearly there when the floor suddenly met her hard in the face. Helen let out a painful grunt. Her body was soaking. She had slipped in a puddle of sewage, her face getting close up treatment.

She tried to stand, but slipped back down into the filth.

Her second try proved more fruitful. Helen got to her feet and ran into school, still dripping.

The halls were empty and class was in session. Helen rolled her eyes and sighed. To the front office then.

The door opened with a groan and closed just the same. Every eye in the class was on the poor soul who had the misfortune of being late.

She was indeed a sight to see.

Her long black hair hung in tangled knots. She wore black jeans and a dark grey sweat shirt, both of which were soaking wet and stunk horribly. Her black sneakers were covered in mud. She wore no makeup other than eyeliner below her bottom lashes, which where now smudged.

On one shoulder hung her backpack, on her other hand was a tardy pass.

Poor Helen Branson.

Helen dropped the pass onto the teacher's desk and rushed to her seat. Her third week of school and she had already screwed things up. Typical.

Helen yawned. She had only gotten about two hours of sleep. Her nightmares were getting worse.

Her classes were uneventful. Math and history blurred by in daydreams. She slept through most of health. There was P.E. which Helen actually kind of enjoyed. Whatever they did, she was never the strongest or the best. But she could out run anyone by a mile. And her reflexes were insane.

Last class, biology.

She sat down at her desk, the one in the back left, and put her head down.

She heard the teacher say something but Helen didn't hear.

She looked up at the board and groaned. Frog dissection. They had hardly even gone over the subject.

Helen buried her head in her hands as the teacher passed out the kits. She then chose several 'volunteers' to carry out the deceased amphibians. The class was assigned groups of three. Helen was grouped with a red headed boy with an annoying cough and tall lanky girl with a habit of popping her fingers. Both of which names Helen quickly forgot.

The frog was passed out in a plastic baggy. Its frozen corpse looked pale and ugly. It smelled worse. The red head was chosen to take it out and pin it to the tray. Juices squirted from the frog as he picked it up. He looked as if he might gag, even though he wore thick rubber gloves.

As quickly as he could, the boy pinned down the frog's limbs and backed away, disgusted.

Helen rolled her eyes. The baby. She realized she rolled her eyes a lot. That was the third time that mourning. She inwardly shrugged and the group started on the frog.

Each had to cut a part of it open and fill things out on a paper. It was boring, disgusting work.

Helen was elected to cut open the frog's chest and stomach.

She took the scalpel and cut a line down the frog. Then she pulled apart the sides and the girl of her group pined them back.

Helen gazed at the frog's organs. She was drawn to the heart. It had once pumped blood through the animal, keeping it alive. Look where it was now.

Her eyes traced each vein in the creature's body, marveling at how it worked. Without thinking, she reached out and touched the frog's tiny heart.

As soon as her fingers made contact, a shiver ran through her body. Her eyes rolled back in her head and what felt like an electric shock went from her to the body pinned in front of her.

The girl next to her shrieked.

Helen's eyed snapped open. Her heart was racing and she felt light headed.

The girl cried out again. The boy then began calling for the teacher, hysterical.

What the heck is wrong with them? Thought Helen. Then she looked where the girl's finger was pointed.

The frog's body was jerking, its legs flailing around as the pulled free of the pins. Its eyes shot open and darted around. Helen's eyes grew wide. Then she looked at the open wound on the frog's body. Its heart was beating furiously. The frog was alive!

The teacher was now at the table trying to calm the girl, who was now bawling like a child. Then she was the frog. Her eyes went wild and she stepped back, terrified.

The frog was a grotesque creature, it flailing around and spilling blood everywhere.

It's going to bleed to death, though Helen.

She reached for the frog and pulled its limbs free from the pins. It flipped over and tried to hop away, but the cut on its belly kept it from moving far.

Helen felt a pang of guilt. She was after all the one who had cut it open.

She picked up the frog and flipped it over, wondering what to do.

Turns out, she didn't have to do much. The frog stilled, but it wasn't dead. The open flesh began to move, growing over the exposed organs. It shuddered, its body healing. Soon, the frog was whole again. Completely healed.

Helen sighed in relief. For some reason, she really wanted that frog to live. She turned around, realizing the entire class was watching.

Their eyes were wide and several girls cried out when they saw the frog, alive and well.

"Wha-" asked the teacher, dumbstruck.

Helen shrugged. "Guess the frog didn't want to stay dead." She said simply.

With that she walked to her desk and put the frog in her backpack. This little guy would be going home with her.

The others were still froze, terrified of her. Helen just sat down at her desk and finished filling out her paper.


	2. A Girl and Her Raven

**In case you're wondering, I took down Life, Love, and Happiness to edit some things up. It'll be back up later. I'm just going to go through and fix some stuff. I'm really not happy with it right now.**

**On that note, ON WITH THE STORY! Read and Review! :)**

At home Helen took out the little frog and put it on the sofa. It stared up at her with golden eyes. She sat down next to it, stroking its green skin.

"What happened?" She asked. It was all so strange, bringing an animal back from the dead. Yet it felt so natural.

The frog jumped onto her thigh and gave a chirp.

Helen giggled. It was just so weird.

She reached out and tapped the frog on the head. Her eyes widened as she felt the tingle in her body again. The same one she felt when the frog came alive. Her body shivered with the electricity.

The frog began to quiver. It's eyes turned solid black, it stood up on its hind legs, but they were now long and spindly. Its arms lengthened and its fingers vanished. Its skin began to darken and fill out. It looked like it was oozing black liquid. Helen realized it was growing feathers. Where the frog once sat, now was a little black bird.

It gazed up at her, its face curious. It fluttered its winds and whistled.

Helen looked down at her hands. They were normal.

The bird flapped its wings and flew onto her head. She looked up at it.

"I'm gonna have to name you." She said. "Hmm... How about Morph? You changing shape and all."

The bird chirped again.

"Okay then Morph." She put her hand out, her pointer finger extended. Morph fluttered down and landed on it.

Helen got up and headed for the kitchen. Mom wasn't home yet. She wouldn't be home for another hour.

Helen opened the tiny pantry and took out a bag of sunflower seeds. She popped some in her mouth and gave some to Morph. The bird ate them hungrily. Helen laughed.

She sat back down on the sofa and turned on the TV. Morph sat on her shoulder, watching as well. Helen flipped through the channels. Nothing on was good.

She turned the TV off and picked Morph up. She carefully set the bird down in front of her.

"What are you? A boy or a girl?" Helen rubbed the bird's head.

'"Boy I suppose. Oh, that feels good."

Helen jerked her hand back, her eyes wide. She had heard the voice in her head. It still echoed in her brain.

"You just spoke."

'"I did, didn't I?'"The bird chuckled.

Helen gave a small gasp.

Morph cocked his head. '"Don't act so surprised. You did bring me back to life, after all." He hopped onto her thigh, his head angled up at her.

"And thanks for turning me into a bird. I like this form much better than a frog."

"You're welcome."

Morph whistled. His black eyes blinked.

"This is just hard for me to grasp." She admitted. "Would you like me to change your form again?" She asked.

The bird thought for a moment.

"How about a larger bird? A raven perhaps. I very much like being able to fly, and the feathers are so soft."

Helen nodded. "Okay then." She set a hand on the little bird and tried pulling at the electricity. Nothing happened. She sighed.

"Try thinking of a raven."

She nodded and closed her eyes. In her minds eye she saw a raven. She focused on each and every detail.

When she opened her eyes the exact same raven stood before her.

"Good job." Said Morph. She could swear he was smiling.

The raven puffed up his feathers, pleased.

"Do you have any idea how I did this?" She asked.

"I wouldn't know any better than you." Said the bird.

Helen sighed. "Maybe I'll ask mom when she gets home."

No sooner than the words came from her mouth, the door opened. Helen's mom entered. Her hair was a mess and she looked exhausted.

She looked up, her hazel eyes landing on Morph.

She gasped. "How-" She asked.

"Mom, it's ok. He's nice."

Her mother walked slowly to the bird. Her hand reached out as if she might touch it, but she pulled back. "A raven. Of all things, a raven."

She turned to her daughter.

"Where did you find it?"

Helen shrugged. "He used to be a frog. We had to dissect fogs in biology. When I touched him, he came to life. Then he turned into a black bird, then a raven. His name's Morph."

Helen waited for her mom to say she was lying, that she was making it up. She didn't.

Her mother slumped down on the sofa, her eyes never leaving the raven.

"You brought him back to life." She whispered.

She suddenly turned to her daughter, catching Helen's face in her hands. She gazed into Helen's green eyes.

A tear slipped from her mother's eye.

"It's a sign. It has to be."

"What?"

She released her daughter and sat back.

"Do you remember your father?" She asked.

Helen thought it was an odd question. Her dad had left when she was five years old.

Helen shrugged. "A little. He looked like me."

"He looked just like you." She agreed. "Do you know why he left?"

Helen shook her head.

"He left because he absolutely had to. He didn't want to. They made him."

Helen looked up at her mom. "Who?"

"His family." She said.

Helen nodded, though she didn't understand.

"He'd know what all this means" she waved at Morph.

"He would?" Asked Helen.

"He knew magic too." Said her mom.

"Magic?"

"Yes. You've inherited it from him. As with other things. Have you ever wondered why you knew get sick, never bleed?"

Helen nodded. "All the time."

Her mom sighed. "You've inherited his immortality."

"What?!"

Her mother put a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"You remember those stories I would tell you at night?"

"The ones of norse mythology?"

"Yes. They're true. Your father is one of them."

Helen's eyes widened.

"Your father is the god of mischief."


	3. Cities, Stories, and an Iron Suit

**My computer is fritzing out on me. driving me nuts. So bare with me if stuff messes up.**

Helen lay awake that night, still trying to digest what her mom had said. Morph was sleep on a pillow next to her. She turned onto her side, the springs of the sofa groaning.

She was a demigod. What she had done, she had used magic. Helen began going over every piece of norse mythology she knew. Most was the stories her mother told her at night. The way her mom told the stories, it was like they were alive.

She had especially liked the dark elves.

Helen's eyes slowly closed. She drifted off into dreams of gods and monsters.

At school Helen was ignored. No one would talk to her. Morph was hiding in her backpack, a package of sunflower seeds to keep him busy. Helen kept her mental link with him, but he slept most of the time.

Most kids would just stare at her, frightened. Some kids would make fun at her, asking if her frog prince was doing okay.

"He's actually fine, but he's a raven now." She would answer. They just gave blank stares.

Helen would laugh.

She sat down at her desk when the teacher walked up to her.

"Miss Branson, you need to go to the front desk. Mr. Grey is waiting for you there." Helen groaned. Mr. Grey was the principal. She grabbed her backpack and stood. As she was walking out she heard a boy whisper 'Busted." and several teens laugh. Helen turned around, glaring. The offender's eyes widened. But he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he was staring terrified at the pencil in front of him.

The number two pencil has changed into a withering snake. It reared its head back and hissed.

He gasped.

The teacher swerved around, searching for the disturbance. The pencil suddenly returned to normal. She glared at the boy and gave him a warning.

"Now miss Branson, you were supposed to be at the front desk by now."

Helen shrugged and left.

Mr. Grey was waiting for her.

At the front desk sat a small woman typing on a computer. A jar of fake flowers sat next to her.

The principal stood next to the desk. He was tall and thin. He had greying black hair and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Both were from always frowning. His skin was pale and yellow, and his breath always smelled like coffee. Beyond were two glass doors. Freedom.

"Helen Branson." He said was she neared.

"You called?" She asked, cocky.

The principal huffed.

"I hear you caused quite a disturbance yesterday."

Helen shrugged. "Wasn't my fault."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, it wasn't?"

"I blame the frog."

Mr. Grey sat down in a nearby chair and gestured for Helen to do the same.

"Tell me about this frog."

"Sure, but you probably won't believe me."

He just stared at her.

"So in biology yesterday we were supposed to do a frog dissection, but i touched my frog and i came to life."

He raised his eyebrows. "Did in now?"

"I said you wouldn't believe me!" She lifted her hands in exasperation.

"Oh, no I believe you."

Her brows furrowed, confused.

"I keep tabs on all the classes. I saw the video."

She gave a short laugh. "So you're a stalker too?" She asked sarcastically.

He seemed unfazed by the comment.

"Where is the frog now?"

Helen gave a smug grin. "I have him here with me, but he's no a frog anymore."

"Then what is he?"

She shrugged. "I turned him into a raven. Well, he was a blackbird first, but now he's a raven."

"Show me."

Helen was surprised how calm he seemed, as if this was all normal.

She leaned over and took Morph out of her backpack. The bird squawked in protest. Helen set him down on her lap.

"What was that for?" He asked, irritated.

Mr. Grey rose an eyebrow.

"His name's Morph." The bird sized up the principal, his black eyes unblinking.

"He's ugly." Commented the raven.

"How odd." Muttered Mr. Grey. He reached out to touch the bird but Morph puffed up and snapped at him finger.

"He doesn't like you." Stated Helen.

"I can see that."

They were quiet, then,

"Oh yah. He can talk."

Mr. Grey finally looked at her like she was crazy. Talking bird had finally passed his limit.

"Go on Morph, say something smart."

"He's ugly." Repeated the bird.

This time, Mr. Grey heard him too. His face paled even more, if you can say that. Really, some of the yellow went away.

"So you heard him?" Asked Helen. She glanced at the lady sitting at the front desk. She seemed completely oblivious.

"I did."

Morph ruffled his feathers. "Don't stare at me like a dead fish. I'm not the strange one here."

Helen rolled her eyes. He was such a smart ass.

"Are we done yet?" Asked Helen. "I think I have to go back to class."

Mr. Grey shook his head. "No, you will be going home."

"Huh?"

The principal cleared his throat. "You and your...gifts... have proven too distracting for class."

Helen leaned back. "So what do you want me to do?" She asked. "Mom's at work and can't pick me up. You don't want me here."

Mr. Grey was silent for a while. "You are expelled. You can do what you want now."

Helen looked up, her eyes widening a little.

"Cool." Was all she said.

She got up and Morph fluttered to her shoulder. She put on her backpack and walked for the glass doors.

The principal's voice stopped her. "You will be coming back three times a week for private tutoring. We can't get rid of you completely. The state says you still need an education." Helen groaned.

Mr. Grey said no more so she left, glass door swinging behind her.

Helen blinked, the sun blinding her.

The sky was a wonderful blue. Sky scrapes rose high above her. Morph whistled. "Freedom."

Helen chuckled. "Yup."

She looked at her new friend.

"What do you want to do?" She asked.

The bird seemed to shrug. "Don't care."

"Lets just walk around the city until mom gets home. She's no allowed phones at the dinner."

The raven nodded and they headed off.

The air felt good, low eighties. The wind would blow every once in a while, pulling on Helen's long black hair.

She smiled. She couldn't help it. Freedom was a delicious victory. The sidewalks were crowded, but not as bad as it could be. It was New York City after all.

Helen passed by a homeless man laying asleep and wrinkled her nose. The odor wafering off of him was horridness.

The streets were crammed with cabs and other cars. It was like a mosaic of rainbow beetles, mostly yellow.

As they walked something caught Helen's eyes. Ahead to the right was a ATM. An idea formed in her head. She felt a bit of guilt as she neared the machine. She knew it was illegal, but...

She stepped up to the machine and put her hand on the touch screen. Helen closed her eyes and concentrated.

"What are you doing?" Asked the raven

"Hush. I'm trying to think." Answered Helen. The bird was silent.

Finally she had it. The ATM dispensed fifty dollars, right into her hands. Helen's heart leapt with joy, though there was a tinge of guilt mixed in.

"Ah, Now I get it." Said Morph.

Helen took the money and looked around, trying to find something nice to spend it on. A smile touched her face when she saw a book store. Helen crossed the busy street, Morph still on her shoulder.

She walked in, savoring the smell of ink on paper.

"You get fifty bucks, and you're going to spend it on books?" Asked the raven in shock.

Helen rolled her eyes. "Hush now, I'm just going to get one. I want to learn more about my dad."

Morph ruffled his feathers. "Fine, but buy me something to eat after."

Helen nodded, if only to get him to shut up. He was sometimes annoying, for a bird. But he was the only friend she had.

Funny, taking to an undead raven. That's something she never thought she's do.

Helen searched for the mythology section, finally finding it in the very back of the store. She skimmed through the titles until she found books on norse mythology. She picked some out, flipped through them, huffed in disappointment, and put them back. Finally she found a book she liked. The pictures were clean and nice, the wording was simple and easy to understand, and the facts she read thus far went along with the stories her mother had told her.

Book in hand, Helen walked to the checkout. The woman at the line seemed rather groggy, but her eyes perked up when she saw Morph.

"You have a pet bird?" She asked, eyeing the raven on her shoulder.

"A raven, yes." Said Helen. "Though I wouldn't say he's my pet."

The woman chuckled. "I know how that is. What's his name?"

"Morph."

The woman nodded, scanning the book.

"Interesting name."

Helen have a smug grin. Morph chirped from her shoulder, sizing up the checkout lady.

She finished writing her up and placed the book in a plastic bag. Saying her thanks, Helen left the store.

Together, Helen and Morph walked to Central park. There she bought Morph and herself some popcorn and they sat down on a bench for her to read.

Helen immediately flipped to the chapter on Loki. She was deep into it when she read a section on Sleipnir, Odin's eight legged horse.

'Loki is said to be a shape-shifter. At one point he even changed into a female horse, and even gave birth to Odin's stallion Sleipnir.'

Helen's eyes widened. If that was true, she had a horse for a half brother. She chuckled at the thought. I wonder if I'll ever get to meet him, thought Helen.

Helen and Morph were walking aimlessly when they passed by a huge sky scraper. The building was massive. Like, huge. It was the second tallest building in all of New York. Stark Tower. Belonging to the famous Tony Stark, aka Iron Man.

Helen gazed up to look at the Stark logo at the very top. It made her neck hurt.

"I wonder how tall it is."

_"Tall, that's all I know. Can we go in?"_

"I don't know. We might get kicked out or something."

Suddenly a loud humming filled the air. Helen's head jerked up and her jaw dropped. It was Iron Man.

He was in the red and gold suit, rocketing away from the tower.

Helen's eyes narrowed. He was in a hurry. What she knew of Tony Stark was that he hated being rushed. He must be on a mission or something. Saving the world kinda thing.

She studied the now distant suit. Heavily armed. He was heading north east. Europe. What would he be doing in Europe?

_"Wow. Dude's amazing." _Morph's eyes were wide as he watched Iron Man vanish behind a cloud bank.

"Common, I got a bad feeling."

Morph looked at her questioning, but Helen was running home.


End file.
